


Be gentle with this heart

by sgtbaarnes (Thighz)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Doomzo, Explicit Sexual Content, In the begining, In the end, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, also, blood mention, healing together, in the middle, mcdoomzo, the shimada bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/sgtbaarnes
Summary: Hanzo’s love is like a leaky faucet.On that day, he makes sure it never leaks againHanzo has two great loves of his life, neither of them are what you would call normal.





	Be gentle with this heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pasic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pasic/gifts).



> This fic went from zero to 100 real quick and I am so gosh darn proud of it. 
> 
> Thank pasicdarluth on tumblr for this little beauty because whoa boy I've been wanting to write some mcdoomzo for a while. 
> 
> This starts out as Doomzo, bleeds into Mchanzo, add some more doomzo, then bleeds into Mcdoomzo. So fair warning, there's a lot of mixed emotions going on in here. Mostly from Hanzo. 
> 
> I also worshiped Hanzo _a lot_ in this fic because lets face it, he doesn't get as much love as we want him to.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As usual, Genji is far more excited than Hanzo to greet their guests from across the sea. He bounces at Hanzo’s side, hair still dyed that ridiculous shade of green and grinning from ear to ear as the Ogundimu clan enters through the temple gates.

Hanzo doesn’t move a muscle. He just watches in silence as his brother and father greet their guests with deep bows and a clasp of hands between the big men. Hanzo greets them last, tries not to let his eyes linger on the eldest son. He succeeds, but only just.

Akande’s hands are warm, huge as they hold Hanzo’s. His smile is as breathtaking as it was all those years ago and no less of a punch to the gut.

“It is good to see you again, Hanzo.” Akande mutters between them, ignoring the elder men as they dive into ready conversation.

Hanzo nods, “It has been-.” A year. A long, _long_ year of Hanzo wondering if Akande’s last visit and why he was so secluded during it, was because Genji was _entertaining_ him.

Hanzo was not bitter. Genji’s frivolity was no shock to him, but for Hanzo’s one and only friend to be so distant could only mean one thing. Usually meant only one thing.

“My apologies for my swift departure and seclusion, last visit.” Akande’s hands fall away, settle at the base of his spine, “My father and I spent most of that in audience with your father.”

“I had wondered.” Hanzo glances over at Genji, who is flirting with one of the younger clan members.

When his gaze connects with Akande’s, there is a knowledge in them and a mirth. Akande waves towards the tatami doors that exit the main hall, “Refresh my memory of the castle, Hanzo.”

Hanzo tilts his head and nods, turning on his heels and leading Akande from the chattering noise of the room.

The hallways are silent as they roam, Hanzo guiding him through newly remodeled rooms and portions of the estate. Akande is a huge presence at his side and Hanzo can smell the rich, fragrant scent of his cologne. He is loath to admit he missed Akande’s rolling accent and chest deep vocals. His intelligence was rival only to Hanzo’s own, his knowledge of the battlefield and enemy weaknesses just as thrilling as his physique.

They arrive at the entrance to Hanzo’s part of the castle.

There is a tension in the air and Hanzo wishes to be bold, to invite Akande into his room if only to claim that _he_ had him before Genji.

He shakes the thought off angrily, turns to face Akande and offer him one of the many rooms in his wing for the young Ogundimu to sleep.

“Our fathers wish us to marry.”

Hanzo pauses, frowns, “Marry?”

Akande’s sigh is deep, head bowing, “Yes. We turn twenty this year and they are hoping that an arranged marriage will unite the clans.”

“Are we at war with one another?” Hanzo questions hesitantly, “I was unaware.”

“Not at all.” Akande laughs and it is booming, thrilling. Hanzo’s stomach quivers, “It is merely a way to ensure power between us.”

Interesting, Hanzo thinks, frowning down at the floor beneath his bare feet.

“Would you live here?” Hanzo asks softly.

A warm hand brushes against his neck, cards through the hair loose from its tie. Hanzo can not meet Akande’s gaze. He swallows thickly as the fingers tug at his hair, fingers rubbing the strands and twisting them around a thick finger.

“Among other things.” Akande’s voice is a deep rumble and his body settles into Hanzo’s space.

Hanzo winces, refuses to lift his gaze. How disrespectful.

However, he is used to people only wanting him for his money. His status. ‘What can I gain from sleeping with the Shimada heir?’

All of his trysts began and ended with those thoughts.

“I do not think it wise for us to do more than make appearances.” Hanzo finally manages to lift his chin, hardening his gaze as it meets Akande’s.

Akande’s hand cups the back of his neck, thumb teasing the skin behind Hanzo’s ear, “If I am to marry you, Hanzo.” His head lowers, slow, sure and warm lips meet Hanzo’s temple, “Then I request that I have all of you and only you. For business _and_ carnal pleasure.”

Hanzo’s insides shift, scatter in the wind like the petals on the sakura trees. His heart shudders as the hand at his neck tightens and the lips trail soft and sure down over his cheek. Akande does not kiss him, just teases the corner of his mouth, drifts back up to his temple.

Then, all at once, the warmth fades and Hanzo is cold and empty.

“Imagine what we could do together.” Akande voice is steady and firm, the hand he had against Hanzo’s skin brandishes widely, “We would be feared, revered.”

Hanzo can not deny him.

“Then-.” He bows, deep and low, “I accept your proposal.”

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Weddings in Akande’s home country are festive and grand. There are gorgeous colors and dances, food as far as the eyes can see. The women dress in ancient wear and the men paint their flesh with the clans markings.

In Japan, everything is regal, practiced. Much like his husband-to-be.

Akande does not take his eyes from Hanzo’s form in front of him. The elder Shimada heir is dressed in dark blue robes, lined with gold and tied with silver. An intricate tattoo peeks from behind the wide collar and a private part of him is eager to put his mouth to that inked skin.

Hanzo’s eyes are dark, curious as they peer up at him. The priest continues with his words, but Akande is not listening to them. Hanzo does not appear to be either and his gaze does not waver, but his hands curl and uncurl within the wide sleeves of his robes.

Is it nerves? Regret?

Akande can never tell what is behind Hanzo’s wall until the man teases him with a glimpse. So closed off, so unused to affection and praise. Akande wishes to shower him with it, upon the completion of the ceremony. Once the families have parted ways and he has whisked Hanzo away to their honeymoon destination.

How would a man unused to being worshiped, react to it?

His skin itches with the need to know, the words around him blur and sharpen. Hanzo’s mouth is right there and he is eager to partake in it. He is only waiting for the right words to be spoken.

“Share a kiss and unify the houses.”

Akande steps forward, eager and chest ripe with anticipation. He has been dreaming of this moment for _years_ , since he stepped into the Shimada castle and spotted Hanzo across the room.

Hanzo’s mouth is a furnace under his own. He tastes of the wine they shared during the ceremony and toothpaste from a morning routine. His lips tease and brush and Akande is lost, hands tight at Hanzo’s waist as the room claps politely around them.

Parting is agony and Hanzo’s heavy-lidded gaze and red mouth does nothing to ease that agony. He only wishes to dive back in for more, but that can come later. He instead smiles down at the man and Hanzo returns it with one of his own, soft and barely there.

It is enough.

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  


Sex is not a foreign concept to Hanzo, despite Genji’s teasings and jokes about him being a virgin. He has had many bed partners in the last few years and all of them moderately satisfying. Which is giving them a little wiggle room, considering they only had to hear his last name before wanting to dive into bed with him. Hanzo allowed it only because it was a simple way to curb the appetite for Akande.

Genji could sleep with their fathers potential clients with no repercussions, but Hanzo was the heir. Hanzo was the beacon the entire clan had to look to for guidance once his father laid down the reins.

So of course he refused to give into his desire to feel those large, heavy palms against his flesh. Or to smell that rich cologne and rub against the skin it clung to until his own absorbed it. He would escape from the compound and seek relief in a willing body. Only three tried to kill him so far.

But now-

 _Now_ -

Akande does not even wait the full length of the plane ride before dropping to his knees before Hanzo. Big hands part his thighs and shove the layers of his robe aside until only his fundoshi is visible between them. Hanzo’s fingers curl into the armrests of his seat and he frantically checks the cockpit of the private plane to make sure the hostess can not see them.

The heat of Akande’s mouth startles a moan out of him and he rips one hand away from the arm to slap over his mouth. A hand holds the base of his cock up, half-hard and already starting to leak from the tip. Akande’s eyes are blown wide, darker than usual as his mouth parts over the top of his dick and slides half-way down in one slick motion.

Hanzo’s thighs shake with it, pleasure skating through his veins like a wildfire. He lasts an embarassing couple of minutes before the orgasm rocks through him, potent and sharp. Akande hums and his fingers digs into the flesh of his thighs.

He tucks Hanzo back inside his fundoshi and settles the robes back into place as though they were never disturbed. His mouth is a heated reminder of the activity when it presses against Hanzo’s. His hands curl into the fabric of Akande’s formal button-up red shirt and he deepens the kiss, mouth open and eager, not caring about the musky taste of semen.

Akande settles into the seat beside him, pants obviously tented, but making no move to relieve himself.

The rest of the ride is silent, comfortably so. Hanzo’s body is strung out and relaxed after the orgasm and when the plane lands, the lingering arousal surges. Akande pulls him from the plane, grinning from ear to ear and thanking the pilot and attendant for the lovely flight. A tinted car takes them to a small, private resort north of Hokkaido.

Winter is new and there are soft blankets of snow surrounding the resort. The car drops them off at the front circle drive and Hanzo notes that there are no other cars or signs of visitors in the parking lot.

“I made sure we would get only privacy.” Akande assures, wide palm at the base of Hanzo’s spine as they weather the cold air and enter through the front doors.

Glorious warmth sinks into Hanzo’s bones as they shake the snow from their shoes and take the assigned slippers from the front walkway.

A hostess in a green kimono greets them with a smile, welcoming them to the resort.

“The entire facility is yours.” She waves around the light wood and narrow hallways. There is the scent of warm broth in the air and steam from what Hanzo hopes are hot springs.

“We thank you for allowing us the privacy of booking your entire resort.” Akande bows.

“Anything for the Shimada family.” She bows in return, “When would you like to receive dinner, young masters?”

“Eight.” Hanzo states, “We would like to partake in the springs first?” He looks up at Akande curiously and his new husband nods in agreement.

The hostess nods happily, “Of course! Your suite connects directly to the private springs. End of the this hallway.” She hands them a key, “I am Ayame and should you request me, there is a call button near the room’s door.”

Hanzo bows, “Thank you, Ayame-san.”

She bows once more and scurries off down the other end of the hall.

Akande clears his throat, “I did quite a bit of research to find this place.”

“My father spoke of it many years ago.” Hanzo mutters as they walk down the hallway, “But we were never allowed much vacation time.”

Too much training. Too much ‘you have to take over the family business, Hanzo. There is no time for frivolity.’ While Genji flitted all over Hanamura with pockets deeper than Hanzo’s himself.

Akande unlocks the door for them and pushes inside. Their luggage is already settled inside the room, two unassuming suitcases. It is not a traditional suite, like the rooms he is accustomed to in Hanamura. This one has a western bed.

“Hm.” Akande muses, “I was expecting bedrolls.”

Hanzo’s hands skim over the sheets folded neatly over the bed, bold and red, “As was I. A modernization for tourists, no doubt.”

He turns to face Akande, who is rummaging through his suitcase, unpacking slowly and methodically. The man’s body is built for combat. Even behind the modest outfit he wore after the wedding ceremony, his shoulders and arms attempt to bulge free from the fabric. Hanzo gains a sharp memory of all that mass between his legs, full lips parted around his erection. He shivers at the memory and turns to unpack his own belongings.

They will be at the resort for a fair few days, long enough for the news to spread of their marriage and the rival clans to get their affairs in order. The clans will either intensify their grudge or seek partnership. Hanzo was fully prepared to get right back to work after their marriage concluded, however, Akande had other plans.

_We must honor all the aspects of newlyweds._

Silly, Hanzo thinks, useless. They are not in love.

He glances around the honeymoon suite, can see the hotsprings through a crack in the paper doors leading outside. This entire escape is nothing short of foolish and meaningless. While he admires Akande and does not mind indulging himself in the pleasure of the flesh, he is not in love.

He will _never_ be in love.

Akande swirls around, “How do we do this, then?”

Hanzo can’t help but laugh softly at his eagerness, “Here-.” He leads Akande to the bathroom, “First we must rinse. Gather dry towels. Try not to bring outside impurities into the springs.”

They strip down together, something Akande is not bothered by it seems. Hanzo shows him how to rinse in the proper side of the bathroom, where the towels are kept and that it is normal to go into the springs in the nude.

“Japan is fascinating.” Akande mutters in awe as they step out into the private springs.

Hanzo has only seen small ones in Hanamura, but this is massive. The rocks are huge, smooth enough to sit on. Steam rises from the crystal clear waters and the scent is earthy and fragrant.

Hanzo sinks his right foot in first, sighs happily as the warmth spreads with every inch of skin that comes in contact with it. Akande follows him at his side, his own hiss of satisfaction stirring the lust already hovering low in Hanzo’s belly.

They sit side by side in the massive spring and Hanzo allows the stress in his body to flow away like the water. It laps at his chest and the chill from the air skims his flesh with every retreat of the water.

He realizes a bit too late that he should have tied his hair back up, because now it is sticking to his arms and fans out in the water like black ink. He huffs in irritation and tries to gather it all up, but the water makes it difficult.

“Allow me.” Water rushes over Hanzo’s skin as Akande draws near and those massive hands glide across Hanzo’s shoulders.

A shiver skates down Hanzo’s spine at the feeling and he waits on baited breath as Akande gathers his sopping hair. He twists it gentle as anything and settles it over Hanzo’s tattoo-less shoulder. Fingers skim the base of his throat, firm and calloused from hand to hand combat.

Hanzo’s breathing stutters and all he can think about is that hand wrapped tight around his throat, squeezing, gentle and sharp.

The fingers press at his pulse and a low purr vibrates at Hanzo’s back, “I can see your heartbeat.” Akande’s voice is rough, laced in desire. Hanzo can only imagine how much he’s repressed since the blowjob on the plane.

“Your throat is so delicate.” Akande whispers, “I wonder how easily it bruises.”

Hanzo’s cock twitches to life between his legs and heat pools at the base of his spine. The line of his body tenses with pleasure as lips meet the skin of his shoulder, “After dinner-.” Akande rumbles, “I am going to see how many I can create.”

 _Yes please_ , Hanzo wants to beg, but he is above that. He is a _Shimada_.

And a Shimada begs for nothing.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

  


He is a liar.

A dirty, dirty liar who barely makes it back inside their bedroom before tearing at Akane’s robes. Too small for his huge body and that infuriatingly large hand sliding up the edges of Hanzo’s throughout the meal. Deft fingers petting where he wore no undergarments, teasing the edges of his cock and balls until Hanzo could barely form a sentence to the poor, innocent hostess serving them dinner.

Akande’s laughter is bold and brash, his hands harsh as he shoves Hanzo’s robes from his shoulders and allows it to pool at his ankles. Hanzo’s own hands, strong in their own way, from bow and sword alike, tear at the tie around Akande’s waist and push the white garment from dark shoulders.

“Impatient.” Akande mutters, eyes dark and focused on Hanzo and Hanzo alone.

That is enough to make Hanzo’s blood boil. He yanks the bigger man down for a kiss, sinks into his mouth with little finesse. Akande does not complain, only groans, soft and vibrant against Hanzo’s lips. The kiss is messy, slick with teeth and tongues. He presses his lean warrior body against Akande's massive form and his legs nearly give out at the feeling. This man could kill him, with one hand. Instead, that hand is cupping Hanzo’s bottom and digging nails into his tender flesh.

Hanzo yanks him towards the bed. He refuses to let their first time together be on the floor like randy teenagers. No matter how appealing the image of his nails scoring wood as Akande pounded into him.

Akande hovers over him when his knees hit the edge of the bed and cause him to fall into the soft sheets below. They skim his pampered flesh like a caress and it causes another thrum of arousal to course through him. Akande takes one of his feet in hand, so small and delicate in his large palm.

The man presses a kiss to Hanzo’s ankle and his gaze does not leave Hanzo’s own. Heat flares in his chest and Hanzo swallows, watches as Akande nips at the flesh of his instep, bites down into his calf. Goosebumps scatter across Hanzo’s arms as Akande leaves dark, bold bruises up Hanzo’s legs and deep between his inner thighs. He sucks one of Hanzo’s balls into his mouth and Hanzo can barely form words, doesn't think he needs to.

By the time Akande finally rises to Hanzo’s chest, he’s biting into a nipple and sending Hanzo’s back into a painful arch. His hands find purchase at the base of a bald skull, nails digging into the flesh with every tug and twist of the mouth around his pec. Akande seems to favor the tattooed one, Hanzo notices. He pays special attention to the swirls and colors of his dragon.

He leaves bruises _everywhere_. Along his stomach, thighs, chest, neck. Hanzo moans with every sink of teeth into flesh, every harsh suck. His dick is straining between them and he can feel Akande’s brushing his leg with every movement of his big body.

Hanzo so desperately wants to give Akande pleasure in return, but he can barely think, can barely move as his body has melted from the pleasure of it all. Akande doesn’t seem to mind, because his mouth hasn’t stopped once, not even to talk.

Hanzo tries to speak, clears his throat, wants his hands wrapped around Akande’s cock, “Let me touch you.”

Akande presses a wet, open mouthed kiss beneath Hanzo’s jutting cock, “Not yet.” He murmurs darkly, “I am not done worshiping you.”

Too much.

_Too much._

Akande prepares him slowly, methodically, the same way he folded his clothes into the dressers of the room. His fingers are _huge_ as they stretch Hanzo open, slick with lube and leaking down the crack of his ass. Akande mouths at his balls, his thighs, bites down a fair few times in reward for a moan when the tips of his fingers hit Hanzo’s prostate.

Hanzo doesn’t know how much longer he is going to last until _finally_ Akande maneuvers him onto his stomach. His belly quivers in anticipation, knees adjusting to the softness of the mattress beneath them. Settles into position easily, glances back over his shoulder to watch Akande’s form settle at Hanzo’s ass.

His erection is massive, bigger than Hanzo’s ever taken and it does not frighten him. Instead, he only wants it more. He has never felt arousal so sharp, so desperate in his life. His body flexes, ready and willing.

Akande’s hands spread over Hanzo’s back, settle at his hips and pulls him back to rub that thick cock between Hanzo’s prepared cheeks. It’s _hot_ , hard and catches on the rim just enough to send Hanzo’s chest into a frenzy of emotion.

The first press steals his breath. His fingers curl into the sheets, nearly ripping them and his thighs shake. It burns a path up his spine and settles warm at the base of his cock. He can feel the precum leaking from the tip, dribbling onto the bed beneath. Akande hisses sharp behind him, hands tight to his hips and breathing labored.

“Oh.” Akande whispers, reverent, “Oh _Hanzo._ ”

Hanzo shivers at the sound of his name, ripped so harshly from Akande’s lips in that deep tone. He bites down into his bottom lip, tries to contain the urge to _scream_ Akande’s own name to the heavens. To beg for him to _move_.

He does neither. Just tears at the sheets and pants through the burn and stretch of such a large cock inside of him.

“ _Exquisite._ ” Akande mumbles in his own tongue, Hanzo recognizes it from the many terms taught to him over the years.

After allowing Hanzo to relax into the stretch, Akande finally begins to move. Slow, steady thrusts, lube slicking the way. Hanzo can’t help the sounds falling from his lips, throaty, course moans that get lost in the sheets under his face.

Akande growls above him and Hanzo can feel him shift, adjusting to another position before a hand dips under Hanzo’s throat. Fingers curl around the base and yank Hanzo backwards, body straining to hold the angle. He gasps sharply, eyes wide as Akande’s teeth sink into his ear, lick away the burn, “I want to _hear_ you.”

Hanzo tries to nod, but the hand at his throat prevents that. He tries to swallow, can feel the pressure on his esophagus. It should not be as thrilling as it is, but Hanzo can not deny the heat that sears along the back of his neck at the thought of Akande bearing down.

Those strong hips continue to slam home and Hanzo knows his ass will be as bruised as the rest of him come morning. The thought only makes him _harder_.

He can feel Akande’s harsh breaths against his neck, nose nuzzling between the thick strands of his hair to get to the flesh beyond. A sharp bite to the top of his spine sends Hanzo keening, breathing haggard and throat pressing firm into the hand holding him up.

Akande’s hand tightens out of reflex and cuts off his breathing for a split second, enough for panic to set in. Enough for Hanzo’s vision to starburst and chest to tighten and-

He explodes across the sheets below, dick kicking harshly and no sounds coming from his constricted throat. Akande’s grip loosens in surprise and Hanoz takes in a rush of air and the fading orgasm intensifies tenfold. He shouts, Akande’s dick still slamming into his prostate with alarming accuracy.

“Gods.” Akande whispers hoarsely, fingers flexing at Hanzo’s throat, “Did you-?” A heavy swallow, “You continue to surprise me.”

Hanzo’s dick is still hard. Akande is still pounding into him from behind and his is too wired up. Too overstimulated.

Akande’s hand tightens once more and hot breath fans over his cheek. His husband growls into the flesh, chest pumping hard at Hanzo’s back, “ _Again._ ”

  
  


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The first time one of them is captured due to an arrangement gone wrong, it is not Hanzo who is whisked away and tortured, as Genji so kindly liked to joke.

It was Akande.

Which brought him to his current position, arms and ankles locked down with metal cuffs. His right cheek feels puffy, sore and he can taste the blood in his mouth from the initial strike to his head. His vision is just shy of fuzzy, but he can make out the beautiful dark-haired beauty who lured him from Hanzo’s side.

A cousin, if he remembers correctly. One who wished to converse with the famous husband of Hanzo Shimada. She had flirted and Akande had kindly turned her down, unwilling to start a mess in a family he has only been in for a year.

The rejection only made her more aggressive in her pursuit. Akande realized just how far he’d strayed from his husband a little too late.

Now, he has no doubt that Hanzo will find him. His husband is nothing if not efficient and ruthless in that regard. It is a tad bit humiliating to be kidnapped so easily when one is an esteemed warrior.

A finger tips his chin up and Akande looks upon the visage of the woman who bludgeoned him with a bat. She is indeed related to the Shimada’s, her sharp features and shrewd eyes tell him that much. However, the resemblance ends there. Her hair is too thin, nose too downturned, no doubt from a different bloodline on one side.

“Too easy to capture.” She snorts down at him and her nail scraps the underside of his jaw when she lets his chin fall.

“I assure you,” Akande states firmly, “That had I not been attempting to be a gentleman, you would not have succeeded.”

She scoffs, waves a hand at him, “All married men will drift for a pretty woman. Even the-.” A finger wiggles at him, “Homosexual ones.”

Akande lifts an eyebrow, but does not reply.

She pulls out a slim cell phone, dials and waits. Her japanese is too rapid for Akande to follow, Hanzo is a patient teacher, but Akande is only a beginner. He only catches the words for ‘cousin’ and ‘moron’.

He waits for what seems to be hours. His ankles ache and the metal digs into the flesh of his wrists. He is silently thankful that his father was adamant for training in all areas of torture and capture. Hanzo had been pleased to know that as well. With their standing in society, one must always be prepared.

“It seems he will not send someone for you.” She hisses after another hour. Her knuckles are white around the device in hand. She paces angrily, before dialing again.

“You will give me what I ask for or I will kill him.” She snarls and when Akande faces her again, there is a gun pointed at his head.

He sighs, eyeing it warily. Her hand shakes and her form is sloppy, no doubt she would miss anything vital, but he is not in the mood to be shot.

In fact, He is no longer in the mood to even be kneeling here in the middle of an abandoned grocery store parking garage, waiting for a temper tantrum to dissolve. He would much rather be standing with Hanzo in a roomful of the elders reciting the periodic table of elements.

“ _You will give me what I want!_ ” She shouts into the phone, finger jabbing at the end call button.

Fear is not something Akande is fond of, but for a second, just one, he wonders if Hanzo will leave him here to die.

Hanzo did not love him, for all of the affection Akande sent his way. He never expected him to. Hanzo was not the type to love blindly or love fast. He was tentative at best, always too cautious and too suspicious of everything and everyone around him.

And for a moment, Akande does not think Hanzo will save him.

He is wrong.

He also learns two things in the span of a few minutes.

One, that the intricate blue dragons winding down Hanzo’s arms were not just for show. Not just pretty ornamentation to prove his higher status in the Yakuza. They are in fact _real_ dragons that tear through concrete and screaming flesh on the tail end of a battle cry. They soar through his screaming kidnapper and skim the edge of his right arm, electricity jolting him to sit up straighter.

Two, that he has never wanted another human being as badly as he wants Hanzo when he steps over his cousins limp body. He shows no emotion for her well being, does not even stop to make sure she is truly dead.

Akande has a striking thought that Hanzo knew exactly the intent of the mystical blue entities he unleashed.

His husband cups the injured side of his face, thumb brushing over the bruised cheek, “Is this the only one?” His voice is soft, but barely controlled. Akande can hear the repressed anger under the surface.

Another set of hands touch his encased wrists and Akande has to fight the urge to strike backwards with his head.

“It is only Genji.” Hanzo assures, forehead dropping to press against Akande’s, “My apologies for how long it took.”

“Her lackies gave us the runaround.” Genji provides from where he is unlocking Akande’s shackles, “But we have been in this business longer than she.”

When his wrists are freed, Akande does not hesitate in grabbing whatever part of Hanzo he can reach. Hanzo allows it, melts against Akande’s chest while Genji works his lock picking magic on the ankle cuffs.

Genji takes care of the body while Akande stands and works out his legs. Hanzo’s small hands hold him steady, allowing him something to lean on while he gets the blood flowing in his limbs once more.

When Genji is out of his line of sight, Akande cups both of Hanzo’s hips and squeezes. Adrenaline and arousal surge through him in equal measures, even when Hanzo gives him a concerned look of scrutiny.

Akande can only see blinding blue light and his husbands gorgeous form wielding all of that power. He drops his mouth to Hanzo’s, bites down on the bottom lip and relishes the sharp inhale that follows.

“I would take you now, if you would let me.” Akande rumbles, pulling Hanzo flush to his front and enjoying the shiver it causes.

Hanzo’s moan is barely audible and his fingers curl into Akande’s biceps, “The car.” Is his only reply.

They barely make it.

Hanzo has to fumble with the privacy screen while simultaneously barking orders to return to the Shimada estate, all while Akade mouths at the dip of his spine.

The trip home is a long one.

Akande savours every moment of it.

  


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Hanzo falls in love like a leaky faucet.

A terrible metaphor, but an accurate one. His affection for Akande grows and grows with every drip. He weasels his way into Hanzo’s heart, with every smile, every sparring session, every night he takes Hanzo in their bed.

They are both too young. Too new at this.

Hanzo is too bitter when he watches his brother and father bond. He is too angry when he is forced to follow a strict routine while Genji flits around at his pleases.

Akande is his only freedom, he realizes, on a cool day in spring.

Hanzo’s wing of the estate is private, so of course they take the opportunity to have sex near the garden. With the breeze sending Hanzo’s hair everywhere as he rides his husband to a satisfying finish. His fingers curl into the dark skin of Akande’s chest and strong hands guide his hips through the breathtaking orgasms.

_His only freedom._

As he lays out on Akande’s chest and watches the koi swim in the pond beyond, thick fingers combing through his hair. Soft whispers of ‘my dragon’ spoken into the crook of his neck and shoulders while another set of fingers dance down his spine.

_His only freedom._

Until it is all taken away.

A business venture, Akande called it. Just another way to strengthen their empire.

Hanzo gut tells him otherwise.

Akande calls him and betrayal splits like an open wound in Hanzo’s chest.

His husband has taken up with _Doomfist_. Will not be returning to Hanzo’s side until his apprenticeship is completed.

Hanzo is furious, angry, tries to convince him it is the wrong choice. Doomfist will corrupt him.

_We are already corrupted, Hanzo._

Not like this. _Not like this._

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


“If you will not control him, then we will take care of it for you.”

The elders words echo in Hanzo’s head. His feet carry him unbidden to the main dojo in his home. He can hear the whispers following him down the hall, appalled and confused. Worried and clipped.

 _Is everything okay, young master_?

Nothing is okay anymore.

His husband refuses to see reason. His brother refuses to settle down. His father is _dead_ and Hanzo is the only one left to run an entire empire of criminals.

Alone.

_Alone._

“You look troubled brother.” Genji’s voice greets him as he slips between the tatami doors.

The sparrow is training, sword out in a proper stance and feet bare. He pauses when Hanzo clicks the door shut behind him.

“Hanzo?”

Hanzo can not see past the anger, the heartbreak, the _blood_. His brother screams for him, begs him to stop, but he does not.

Hanzo’s love is like a leaky faucet.

On that day, he makes sure it never leaks again.

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Hanzo spends years on the run.

He tries hundreds of disguises and as he runs, he ages.

Many times he sits above the prison facility where Akande is kept and contemplates sneaking inside. To see. To ask. To beg for answers.

But a Shimada does not beg.

So instead, he sits and meditates and listens to the life around him. He can hear the guards snickering and the patrols walking past his hiding place without a care in the world. His back rests against cold brick and he thinks of his old life. He wonders where they went so wrong, when everything around him started to crumble.

When did Akande start thirsting for power outside of their marriage? Outside of ruling an entire organization of crime and order?

When had Hanzo stopped being enough for him?

He cuts that thought off quickly and leaves.

He does not go back.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Seeing Genji again after so long on the run causes anger instead of relief. Instead of the elation of _yes you’re alive, I didn’t truly kill you_ it is _what have you become?_

This Genji, the one he watches from a cliff near the watchpoint, is not the Genji he knew in his youth.

The man who comes and goes through the weeks, who offered him safe harbor within the newly forming Overwatch, is not his brother.

Or at least, that is what it feels like at first.

Hanzo comes and goes, watches the traffic from his eye in the sky. No doubt that Genji knows where he is located at all times, but chooses not to confront him or alert his friends. Instead, he allows Hanzo to wallow in silence and suspicion from his nest.

Until Genji sends a man in his direction.

“Genji said you’d be up here.” The voice is deep, thick with an accent Hanzo is unfamiliar with, “But I didn’t believe him until now.” A low whistle and the jingle of spurs.

“Leave.” Hanzo intones, soft, a warning.

“Not a problem, stranger.” The rustle of clothing and the jingling retreats.

He waits a fair few minutes before cracking an eye open and watching his unwanted visitor retreat.

It is a _cowboy_ , complete with hat and spurs, and the whistling continues as the man walks his merry way back down the cliff. From what Hanzo can see, his hair is dark brown, as is his skin and the pants he wears. His hands hang low in his pockets and there’s a tiny trail of smoke drifting from his face, where no doubt a cigarette or cigar is held between lips.

Hanzo frowns, wonders why Genji sent _him_ of all people this way.

No matter.

It won’t happen again.

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Except it does.

Not once, not twice, but _five_ times.

Three of those times the cowboy, Jesse McCree as he introduces the third time, brings steaming plates of food from the watchpoint. On the fifth occasion, he brings a bottle of amber liquid with black lettering on the side reading ‘whiskey’. He brings food of course, three sandwiches and a tupperware bowl of tomato soup.

The spurs jingle as McCree settles down at Hanzo’s side, booted feet dropping over the edge of the cliff as he sorts out the food.

“It was Genji’s night to cook and well-.” McCree chuckles and the sound of it is pleasant, “He ain’t very good at it.”

Hanzo peers down at the sandwiches, “He never was.” He takes a bite, chews and sits next to the cowboy in silence. McCree is munching on the sandwich from his flesh hand and holding the whiskey bottle by the neck with his prosthetic. Hanzo watches him stare over the watchpoint, amber eyes roaming the gilded steel and pausing on the skyline of the ocean beyond.

“Bigger from this point ‘o view.” McCree mutters, takes another bite from his sandwich.

“It is no doubt impressive on the inside.” Hanzo peers over at him.

A grin ticks at the corner of Jesse’s mouth and those eyes turn to him, sly and dancing with mirth, “Could always find out for yerself.”

Hanzo scoffs, turns back to the ocean, “Is that why Genji sent you up here? To convince me to come down?”

“Not at all.” Jesse says, “Bout to get real cold in these parts and I’m simply extending a warm place to stay.”

“I am used to the cold.” Hanzo dodges and the urge to shoo McCree away rises quickly. He inhales sharply, closes his eyes and centers himself. He’s being stubborn and he knows that, Genji knows that, _McCree_ knows that. However, Hanzo is used to denying himself what he wants most. He’s spent the better part of his life doing that and the last time he allowed himself the freedom to enjoy what he wanted, it slipped out of his reach.

“Well, offers out there whenever yer ready.” McCree takes a swing from the bottle and waves it towards the watchpoint, “Athena has you all authorized and ready to go. Room and everything.”

Hanzo swallows, “No.”

“Suit yerself.”

He listens as McCree gathers up what remains of their food before standing and dusting off his pants. Hanzo listens to him stumble, just on the edge of tipsy from the whiskey. He can smell the smoke of his cologne and the sweet undertone of the booze.

A selfish part of Hanzo wants to follow him. That deep, dark part of him that misses human contact and companionship, the part of him that he buried when Akande left. Instead, he opens his eyes and watches McCree leave, shoulders swaying as he stumbles his way down the cliffside.

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  


“It’s good to see your stubbornness is still holding strong.”  

Hanzo casts his eyes towards the sky at the sound of Genji’s voice. The metallic undertone that comes with his new body still puts his teeth on edge. Hanzo turns just enough to look up at him.

“Nothing you say will convince me to join you.”

“Not asking you to join, Hanzo.” Genji sighs, crossing his arms over the bright green of his chestplate, “Asking you to avoid pneumonia.”

Hanzo sighs, a deep thing that fogs the air in front of him, “Fine.” He pushes himself up to his feet, gathers stormbow and his pack. Genji leads him down the cliff and towards the rear entrance to the watchpoint. The doors part for him and a female voice greets them both by name.

Warmth sinks into Hanzo’s bones and he doesn’t spare a single glance back out at the cold he left behind. The watchpoint smells of something fresh and spicy and his stomach rumbles knowingly.

“Jesse is cooking something for the cold.” Genji chuckles, “But first, your room.” He leads Hanzo down a second hallway, where multiple rooms line the walls. Some have no power to the keypad on the outside, others are red and locked up. His brother comes to a stop at one of the doors and the keypad lights up green.

The door slides open and Genji waves him inside.

“The mess hall is down the hall, right, right, left.” A metal finger points him down the end of the hall, “Just listen for loud voices. Reinhardt is here tonight, so it’ll be a little rowdy.”

Hanzo winces, “Must I?”

“Of course not.” Genji’s voice is soft, “I shall have someone bring you your meal.”

“No.” Hanzo backtracks, “I do not require-.” He huffs, presses a finger to his temple, “I will come down and heat up leftovers.”

Hanzo can feel Genji frowning even through the faceplate of his armor, “McCree’s chili is better fresh from the pot. Much like ramen or hot pot.”

“I know what chili is.” Hanzo scowls, “Fine. I will join later.”

A hand falls on his shoulder and squeezes, “This will be good for you.”

Hanzo watches Genji retreat down the hall and fear clogs his chest. He does not want it to be good for him. He does not _deserve_ good things from the brother he almost killed. No amount of redemption will change that, he’s sure of it.

Hasn’t stopped him from trying.

He slips into his room and the door hisses closed. A light flickers on above him, illuminating the small space and revealing a single bed, desk, and accompanying restroom. The floor is beige tile and the walls are a light blue, bare of photos and only holding a small computer screen above the desk.

His pack falls from his shoulder to the bed and he begins to unpack, slow, methodically. A learned habit over the years.

He props stormbow at the head of the bed, the quiver beside her. The mattress is firm and Hanzo realizes it's been a considerable amount of time since he’s slept in a real bed. He spent most of his time in a bedroll or perched on stairs while he dodged his families hitmen.

Hanzo sits for a long while, allows his body time to defrost after sitting in the winter air for hours on end. Once he can feel his fingers and toes again, he ventures out of the room and further into the watchpoint.

He meets no one in the hallways on his way to the mess hall.

Genji was not wrong about the noise though. Hanzo can hear a booming laugh and other tones of laughter scattered within. He recognizes McCree’s voice among the many talking over one another, Genji’s as well. There are a few he has heard in holovids and matches them with a well-known musician and korea’s top gamer.

He rounds the corner into the hall and his senses are assaulted with the warm smell of chilli spices. Jesse is behind the stove, wooden spoon in hand and dressed down in a simple red shirt and sweatpants. His hat is hanging on the spike of a chair, which is occupied by Genji.

The many tables scattered through the small mess area are empty, save for the two closest to the kitchen. Hana and Lucio are side by side on the closest one, chatting between themselves and fiddling on cell phones. The one he assumes is Reinhardt is leaning over the counter between kitchen and dining area, talking to McCree. Genji is at a table with his master, Zenyatta, someone Hanzo went to great lengths to research before coming here, Angela Zeigler, and Lena Oxford.

“Hanzo!” McCree’s voice is bolstering and bright, causing Hanzo to pause in his tracks like a deer in headlights.

“Brother.” Genji nods in his direction, “We are almost ready to eat.” He motions to an empty chair at his side and Hanzo takes it hesitantly.  

Dinner is served not to long after and the tables erupt in chaotic chatter. Hanzo pays little mind to it and no one tries to coerce him into conversation. The chilli warms him pleasantly and is spicy on the tongue.

Much, Hanzo thinks looking across the table at Jesse, like the man himself.

An hour later everyone filters out of the hall and Hanzo brings his bowl to the kitchen. He finds Jesse storing what remains of the chilli in a variety of tupperware bowls, whistling a tune. Hanzo hovers near the sink, eyeing the piles of dishes from everyones respective meals and can not find it in himself to leave the cook with all the extra work.

“I got that darlin’.” Jesse’s voice brings him out of his thoughts.

Hanzo half turns, rolling up the sleeves of the sweater he is wearing, “It is no bother.”

Jesse hums, sidles up at his side, “How about this, you wash, I dry.”

Hanzo was fully prepared to do all the work himself, but he can not find the will to protest, so he nods.

They work in silence, dish after dish, soap and warm water passing between their hands. He can smell the cigar smoke on Jesse’s clothing and the musty scent of deodorant underneath. His stomach clenches with a different sort of hunger now, but he stifles it down. Now is not the time for him to want for anything.

If he is to stay here, he will fix what he destroyed with Genji first.

Then he may cast his eyes in the cowboys direction.

Jesse’s elbow is warm when it brushes the naked skin of his arm. Heat spikes across the flesh and settles low in Hanzo’s gut.

Oh how he wants.

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Fixing his relationship with Genji is no easy task.

Hanzo knew it would be a challenge, but he didn’t not expect his brother to insist they do sessions with the omnic monk. Hanzo was not against the omnics, but he was not all for them. Something his father drilled into him early in his years.

“It took me a great deal of time to accept Zenyatta’s help.” Genji admits after their eighth session.

Hanzo turns his head up from his meditative state and tilts it in question. Genji’s faceplate is set before him and they are both in their own respective poses. His brother is watching him with a sense of calm Hanzo has never witnessed on him before. Something he has come to notice about the once flighty man. Genji is no less vibrant, but the discipline Hanzo has witnessed since he integrated himself back into his brothers life is stunning.

Genji is a different person, yet still the same green-haired boy Hanzo watched with envy his entire youth.

“What made you change your mind?” Hanzo inquires.

“He offered peace.” Genji replies, “I scoffed at him. Told him there was no making peace with what you had done, but he-.” A pause and shaky inhale, “He told me I could not start with making peace with what _you_ had done, but with what _I_ had become because of it.”

Hanzo thinks of the soft spoken omnic who left them in silence hours ago.

“He is not what I expected.” Hanzo admits quietly, casting his eyes towards the ocean.

Genji’s laugh is soft, “No. He never is.”

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Hanzo is three months into living at the watchpoint and winter is coming to an end when he finally gives into his desire.

Of course, he doesn’t initially set out to do so on purpose, it just sort of happens. Much like an avalanche, where Hanzo does not realize it is coming until the slow motion turn occurs and you are buried under eight feet of snow.

“My god this stuff hits ya like a punch.” Jesse slurs beside him, wiggling one of Hanzo’s empty sake cups around in the air.

Hanzo scoffs, eyeing the red-faced cowboy with a sneer, “And you said your whiskey could ‘knock a man to his knees in seconds’.” He puts air quotes around the saying and Jesse snickers at his attempt.

Jesse sets the cup next to Hanzo’s equally empty one and points, “Another!”

Hanzo shakes his head, “I think we have had quite enough.”

“Nonsense.” Jesse insists, “We’re shot for shot now, I wanna see you stumblin’ back to yer room.”

“Hah.” Hanzo throws his head back, “We shall see.”

He pours them each another cup of Sake, rising to Jesse’s challenge.

It is a different feeling, one that Hanzo is not used to, having friendly competition with a - _friend_ . Hanzo has spent most of his life _forced_ to be better, _made_ to rise above and conquer, but _this_. This weekly companionship that he and Jesse partake in is not forced. Jesse wiggles a bottle of booze in his direction, a grin splitting his handsome, sun-worn face and they walk side-by-side to the top of the watchpoints cliffs and drink.

The booze relaxes his muscles, strained and overworked from hours in the training simulations. Jesse relaxes his soul. That soft southern drawl and the wild motion of his hands as he twists insane tales of his days on the run puts Hanzo in a better state of mind. He does not think of the redemption he seeks.

He feels like he’s already found it.

So, he is foolish enough in his comfort and his desire to have another human's hands on him, to drag Jesse in for a kiss right in the middle of his tale.

The cowboy falters, voice fading as Hanzo’s mouth silences him. Then large, warm hands cup the sides of his neck and Jesse cocks his head, opens his mouth and _sinks_ into him. Hanzo’s own hands curl into the fabric of Jesse’s shirt, heat skating down the back of his neck as their tongues meet and tangle. His skin burns where Jesse’s palms lay and his heart races and shakes with every push and pull of their mouths.

When they part, Hanzo’s eyes flutter open and the expression on Jesse’s face is pure desire. Arousal soars through him and he swallows thickly and twists a fist in Jesse’s shirt.

He has to say something first, before he dives headlong into something he can’t walk back from, “We can not-.” His voice cracks around the words, “I can not-.”

Jesse’s face melts into a knowing look of sadness, a thumb brushes along the skin of his neck, “I know, darlin’. I know.”

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Jesse takes him apart much like he cleans peacekeeper.

With rapt attention and unyielding focus. With calloused, war-worn hands and a mouth that burns kisses into the skin of his inner thighs.

Hanzo has not been touched this way in over a decade. Not since he was young and foolish and caught up by strong arms and a heavy voice calling him ‘ _dragon_ ’.

Not since-

“You are-.” A hot kiss to Hanzo’s belly, unruly beard and a warm neck against his straining cock pulling Hanzo out of his memories, “The most gorgeous man I’ve ever had in my bed.”

Hanzo grins foolishly up at the ceiling of Jesse’s room, his hands are tangled in the cowboys hair, urging him where he needs it the most, “Unlikely.”

He can feel Jesse’s grin forming against his skin and it tingles. Everywhere Jesse has touched since the day they washed dishes together has inflamed Hanzo. Lighting his nerve endings and sending his lust higher and higher with no relief.

But now that changes.

Jesse’s hands are _everywhere_. They score parts of Hanzo he did not know were sensitive, twist and tug at his nipples, scratch down his spine and curve around his thighs. Every touch threatens to send him over the edge.

He undulates under Jesse’s mouth, wet heat teasing around the base of his cock, yet never giving him what he truly wants.

“Wanna hear you beg for it, sugar.” Jesse murmurs, mouthing at the dark vein on the underside of his dick.

A Shimada does not beg.

Hanzo’s fingers twist in Jesse’s hair and the cowboy moans, low and heated on his cock and causing it to bounce against those full lips, “You will be sorely disappointed, then.”

Jesse releases something of a whimper, but does not ask again. Instead, he sets about putting that mouth to doing something besides talking. It sinks around him, teeth barely grazing the sensitive flesh. Jesse’s mouth is like a _fever_ , scorching around him and dripping saliva down the length of his cock.

Hanzo shouts, fingers carding furiously through the hair on Jesse’s head, heels digging into the bed. The pleasure is too much. Each suck, each twirl of that disastrous tongue and each slide of that mouth over the burning flesh of his dick yanks him closer and closer. His chest burns with it, Jesse moans and the sound comes from deep within his chest, strangled and wanting.

His hands curl tight into Hanzo’s thighs, nails digging into the flesh, throat constricting around the tip of his cock.

It’s too much.

It’s been so _long._

A hand moves away from one of his thighs and a thumb brushes against the puckered skin of his ass and Hanzo _screams_.

He comes in long, pulsing waves, body shivering and thighs burning from the strain. Jesse takes it all and Hanzo is just conscious enough to watch those amber eyes flutter closed and another moan to melt around his dick.

His skin is sensitive by the time the orgasm fades. His dick slips from Jesse’s mouth, laying soft and well-loved against his belly. Knuckles graze the skin between his groin and hip and Hanzo hisses, biting down into his bottom lip.

“Like I said.” Jesse’s voice is ruined, thick and wrecked from Hanzo’s cock, “Most gorgeous man I’ve ever had.”

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Hanzo should have known it was too good to be true.

Genji’s smiles turned his way again. Jesse never pressuring him into anything more than occasionally blowing off steam. The way each and every member of the new Overwatch gravitated to him in their own ways.

Too good to be true.

Hanzo forgets to keep a tight hold on the knob of his faucet. Forgets that he leaks everywhere and all over everyone when he isn’t careful. Forgets what happened the last time he allowed the faucet to leak.

Then, Akande escapes from prison.

And Hanzo remembers why.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Word of the masquerade and the rise of Talon’s inner circle rips through the watchpoint like wildfire. Hanzo can do little but watch everyone scramble to gather intel, making the calls to the members out on missions, keeping a close eye on any media coverage of Doomfist’s escape.

He stares down at the tablet in his hand, tracing the features of his former husband with his eyes.

Akande is older, much like Hanzo, much like all of them. Prison has hardened the lines of his face and he is bigger and broader than the last time Hanzo was in his presence. He is wearing the gauntlet in this photo, destroying OR-15s and decimating the Numbani airport.

Hanzo closes his eyes and steadies his emotions.

“I know what you are thinking and the answer is no.” Genji’s voice is a whipcrack, metallic and firm.

Hanzo opens his eyes to look up at his brother and sure enough, Genji’s faceplate is gone and he is frowning.

“I am the only one he will allow close enough.” Hanzo mutters.

“Are you sure?” Genji needles, “Are you very sure that he will even glance in your direction now?” His brother throws out a hand angrily, waving down at the tablet, “That is not the Akande we grew up with. That is not your-.” He lowers his voice, head tipped down in Hanzo’s direction, “That is not your husband anymore, Hanzo.”

It should not hurt. Hanzo made sure to cleanse that wound and sew it up tight, but of course it never truly closed. Not completely.

“I must try.” Hanzo hands Genji the tablet.

Genji’s face twists, the scars pulling into a look that pains Hanzo down to his very soul, “ _Please_ Hanzo.”

“Genji.” Hanzo’s throat constricts around the name, hates that his brother is using such a tone on him. The same begging, _pleading_ tone he used with blood-drenched fingers pulling at Hanzo’s clothes.

“Please.” Genji’s hand shakes as he sets it on Hanzo’s shoulder, fingers curling into the skin and squeezing, “Be safe.”

Hanzo can do little but nod.

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Hanzo spends two days wandering through Numbani and three in nearby cities before Talon catches wind of him. He is careful to float his name on the breeze, but harsh when he breathes ‘Shimada’ into the ears of injured Talon operatives. They squirm in his hold, an arrow jutting from the painful tissue of their shoulder.

“I will not ask you again.” Hanzo states, voice low and threatening. He tugs at the arrow and the man cries out in pain, struggles within Hanzo’s grip.

“I don’t _know_.” He hisses, “My orders don’t come from him!”

“He is the leader.” Hanzo snarls.

“ _One_ of the leaders.” The man snaps, “My orders come from the Reaper.”

 _One_ of the leaders.

One of.

Meaning Talon was not just lead by a single person, but by an entire _council_ of them. Hanzo drops the man without warning, wraps his fist around the middle of his arrow and yanks it free. They man cusses at him, but Hanzo merely steps over his curled up body and continues on.

He makes it two blocks, slinking through the darkness, before he is shoved into an alley and thrown into the wall.

His shoulder makes contact with brick and pain blooms, fierce and hot. He falls into his hand-to-hand training with ease, but whoever has him pinned is stronger.

Bigger.

“What a rude way to greet an old friend.”

The voice sends a shiver down his spine. A voice decades old, yet still capable of halting Hanzo in his tracks. A voice that accompanied smiles, pleasure, fierce loyalty in the company of his family's enemies.

Hanzo’s eyes flick up, meeting the gaze of his former husband.

“Akande.” He spits out.

Akande smiles down at him and it wrenches something free in Hanzo’s heart. Warm, dark eyes stare into his own and the hands pinning him to the brick loosen. They trail, slow and sure, mapping a familiar trail from his shoulder to his wrists. Large fingers wrap around his tattooed wrist and Akande brings it to his lips. He twists it gently, palm up, and places a kiss on the delicate, inked skin of Hanzo’s wrist.

“My dragon.” Akande breathes against it.

Hanzo keeps his composure as collected as he can on the outside, but on the inside, a dam has broken.

He does not know how to form words, can not think of a single thing to say, even after days of practicing speeches in his head. Of trying to interrogate this man and demand to know why he turned his back on everything they had.

“I have missed you.” Akande lifts his head and presses the knuckles of Hanzo’s hand to his half-naked chest, “Parting from you was agony.”

Hanzo nearly laughs and he has no doubt it would have been strangled and empty. Instead he lifts his chin and sneers, “It did not seem agonizing to you at the time.”

A sigh from the bigger man and the fingers around his hand tighten, “You would not listen to reason.”

“Listen to-.” Hanzo inhales sharply, “You might as well have asked for a _divorce_ for all of your betrayal to my family.”

Akande’s eyes narrowed, “The family that made you kill your own brother?”

The words do what they are intended. They strike Hanzo down hard and he turns his gaze away like a coward.

“I am not here to ask for forgiveness, Hanzo.” Akande states and he continues to hold Hanzo’s hand and it threatens to loosen that horrible, leaky faucet in Hanzo’s heart, “I know you will not give it to me.”

“They why?” Hanzo turns his gaze up.

Another smile, sincere and hopeful, lights up that handsome face, “I want you to come with me. You should consider joining us, Hanzo. I think we would see eye to eye on many things.”

Hanzo’s eyebrows draw together, irritation lacing through him, “ _What_?”

Akande’s hand squeezes, his face eager, “Join Talon, come with me.”

The thought alone is abhorrent. For all of Hanzo’s upbringing in the Yakuza, for all his years spent killing for money and running from his clan, he never once looked in Talon’s direction. They were nothing but world-wide terrorists, intent on destroying everything Overwatch tried to rebuild.

He holds his head high, “I would have little to gain from such an arrangement.”

Hanzo can see the minute disappointment on Akande’s features, but it is gone as soon as it appears, “Hanzo.” A firm tone, a pleading tone, much like Genji before Hanzo set out on this stupid quest.

“I have found my own path.” Hanzo presses on, “My answer is no.” He pulls his hand from Akande’s grip, it is a little thing, considering he is blocked in against a wall, but it is powerful enough to cause Akande’s face to fall.

“Hanzo.” Softer, more intimate. Hanzo’s heart shudders and Akande lowers his head once more, moves slowly into Hanzo’s space and their chests brush, “I can not lose you again.”

No.

Unfair.

_Unfair._

Hanzo thinks of Genji. Of Jesse. Of his new family back at the watchpoint.

“My answer-.” He reiterates firmly, hardening his gaze, “Is no.”

Akande’s features morph into anger. It is a gradual change and no less terrifying because of it. Hanzo holds his ground and meets the man eye for eye, anger for anger. How dare he ask Hanzo for something like this, after leaving him in the dust.

Like Hanzo was _nothing._

A hand strikes out and before Hanzo can reflexively stop it, fingers wrap around his throat and his head hits the wall behind him. It is not as harmful as it could have been, Akande was and still is a powerful man.

He looks down at Hanzo and the hand flexes, once, twice, “I remember how much you enjoyed this.”

Shame flashes through Hanzo, hot and sudden. His eyes widen and he wraps a hand around Akande’s wrist, nails biting into the flesh.

“I remember,” Akande’s voice goes low, smoky and hot against Hanzo’s ear, “How you begged for me. Trusted me with something so dangerous.” His voice cracks and Hanzo hears it, hesitates and waits before lashing out, “And I-.” The hand loosens, each finger allow Hanzo breathing room, “I betrayed that trust.”

The anger bleeds out of Akande’s form like the wind, all at once. His shoulder sag and he covers Hanzo’s body with his own. The warmth and the strength in it send tingles across Hanzo’s skin, it is so familiar.

“I _have_ missed you.” Akande speaks into the crook of Hanzo’s neck.

Hanzo swallows, eyes locked on the wall across from him, “ _You_ left _me_.”

“Yes.” Akande admits sadly, “But I do not regret it. I gained a new purpose in my life and I tried to convince you to join me then.”

Hanzo scoffs, “And you thought I would change my mind? Ten years later?”

Akande sighs, “I had hoped you would miss me enough to agree.”

Hanzo’s eyes drift shut, “I have missed you every day since you left.”

Except, Hanzo thinks in shame, when he was with Jesse. When that loud cowboy tugged him into bed and spoke low and sweet against Hanzo’s skin.

Akande pulls back and Hanzo opens his eyes once more. Their eyes meet and Hanzo wonders sadly if this will be the last time. The last time he will see his first love right before they go to war against one another.

Akande lifts a hand and brushes his fingers down Hanzo’s cheek. He leans forward, hesitant and like the fool he is, Hanzo accepts the kiss offered. It seizes his throat and shakes his heart down to the core. He exhales sharply, the taste of his husband just as beautiful as it was when they were young.

Hanzo parts from him, needs to escape. Wants to carve out the feeling in his chest with a rusty spoon and leave it on the ground.

“Reconsider carefully, my dragon.” Akande whispers it between them like a promise.

  
  


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Hanzo returns to the watchpoint defeated. Utterly and wholly overcome with too many emotions and not enough time to sort through them before facing his brother.

Genji stops him before he gets to his room, looking every bit as frazzled as Hanzo feels on the inside, “ _Aniji_.” His brother pulls him into a crushing hug and Hanzo allows it, but everything is numb and muted.

“He asked me to join him.” Hanzo croaks, feeling hollow and emptied out.

Genji holds him at arm's length, eyes wide, “ _Why_?”

Hanzo’s face twists angrily, “He _missed_ me.” He spits out.

“Oh Hanzo.” Genji hugs him again. Holds him for an undetermined amount of time before releasing him and insisting he talk to Zenyatta.

“No.” Hanzo just wants to go to his room or retreat to the training rooms, maybe get more time in with stormbow and release the frustration.

“If not Zen, then go to Jesse.” Genji insists.

Hanzo waits until Genji is out of sight before backtracking to Jesse’s room. He hesitates at the end of the hallway, ponders on whether or not to just detour to the training rooms instead. However, his feet carry him to the door and he knocks, hesitant.

The door beeps and opens, revealing Jesse lounging in bed, tablet on his lap. He’s wearing only sweats, the hairy expanse of his chest out in the open and hat hanging from the chair by the desk.

Jesse grins, “Welcome back, darlin’.” He scooches over towards the wall and Hanzo slips off his shoes and takes his place at Jesse’s side. He falls back into the pillows, stares up at the ceiling and silently thanks Genji for the idea. Jesse’s warmth is an instant relief, as is his quiet question of, “You okay?”

“No.” Hanzo admits, turning his face to Jesse.

Amber eyes regard him patiently.

“Did Genji tell you where I went?”

“Nope.” Jesse shakes his head, “None ‘o us bothered askin’. Figured you changed yer mind and headed back out on the road.”

Hanzo frowns, “Oh.”

“Not that we wouldn’t have missed ya.” Jesse says softly, “Me most of all.”

Hanzo’s chest warms from the words, but he sighs, “I went in search of my husband.”

Silence. Then Jesse’s face scrunches up before a dramatically whispered, “ _Husband_ ?” Wheezes out of his mouth, “Yer _married_?”

Hanzo hums, “Not technically. It’s been ten years, twelve months is the legal separation period before a marriage is voided, so. I suppose not.”

“Who is yer husband?” Jesse asks incredulously, but Hanzo watches and waits for the gears in Jesse’s head to click into place.

It doesn’t take long.

“Holy hell.” Jesse drops his head back against the wall, “ _Hell._ ”

Hanzo agrees with the sentiment, curls his fingers together over his stomach, “It did not end as I hoped.”

Jesse shifts beside him, “Were you tryin’ to convince him not to go darkside?”

“Nothing so foolish.” Hanzo huffs, “I merely wanted answers. Decade old answers to questions I have been asking myself since he left.”

“Did you get them?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo hesitates, “More than I thought I would. I am-.”

 _Still in love with him_.

He can’t form the words. His mouth won’t move and his throat won’t produce the vocals needed to pronounce them.

“I ain't gonna lie.” Jesse sounds defeated, “Kinda puts a damper on me and you, doesn’t it?”

Hanzo faces him again, pushes up to an elbow, “I won’t deny my feelings for him. Nor will I deny the ones I hold for you.”

Jesse manages a smile, “So there is something here.” He points between the two of them.

“Since the very beginning.” Hanzo whispers.

“Good.” Jesse nods, settles back into his pillows and pulls Hanzo into his side, “That’s real good.”

  
  


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“Who is he?” Akande asks, leaning into Sombra’s desk with an air of authority.

She swats at him with her hand and he retreats with a frown. He casts a glance back at Reaper, who’s lounging in a cot and swirling his nanites around in the air.

“Don’t touch her stuff.” Reaper grunts, doesn’t bother looking over to confirm if he was right or wrong.

Akande scowls, “I must know.”

“Yea yea.” Sombra grunts, typing frantically away at her computer. She presses a button with a flourish and a camera feed pops up on the screen.

It reveals the security feed of a talon stronghold. Akande does not recognize the building, but he does recognize Hanzo, who darts across the room and up a ladder in seconds. He’s as nimble and flighty as Akande remembers. There’s a grace in that body that always caused him to gravitate in Hanzo’s direction. A strength in that body and a spark in that mind that had him crawling back for more every time.

He still feels it in his veins, even through the disappointment and the anger.

“It’s not long.” Sombra mutters, “Someone killed the feed at some point.”

Akande can not take his eyes off of Hanzo. The man takes out operative after operative with stunning accuracy. His form is beautiful, but now it is confident, practiced. Age and wisdom has shown Hanzo great favors.

“ _Pretty handy with that bow._ ”

The voice is new, north american, southern. Akande’s eyes dart around the screen, spots a man dressed in boots, spurs, and a cowboy hat. There’s a six gun in his hand and despite the gaudy attire, he manages to sneak around the guards and take them out one by one.

“Jesse McCree.” Reaper grouses from his cot, “Former Blackwatch.”

“Ah.” Akande hums, “Your protege.”

Reaper grunts. Says nothing more.

Akande watches the interactions between the two, the flirting, the upturned amusement of Hanzo’s mouth. Jesse’s grins cast in his direction.

Akande curls his fist in his lap, eyes narrowed.

_I have found my own path._

Was Jesse McCree on this new path? Was Hanzo truly integrated into the newly formed Overwatch?

How far out of reach was his dragon now?

  
  


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As a sniper, one must be careful, cautious and alert at all times. Hanzo strives for perfection in everything he does, does not miss, does not lose sight of his target.

Except, when that target is Widowmaker.

He has gone sight to sight with her twice, once while he was on the run, and the second time on his first mission with Overwatch. Where she also tried to convince him to join Talon, but at the expense of his own free will.

This time it is his own fault. He never saw her coming. Not until the last second and her sights were centered on his chest.

He has just enough time to jerk away from the fatal shot and take the slug in his right shoulder. The pain is instant and harsh, sending him to his knees, but thankfully out of her sights. He presses a hand into the wound, hopes the shot was clean and tries to stem the bleeding. It spreads across his clothes rapidly, despite the hand he grinds into the wound. All he can do now is breathe through the pain.

“Hanzo!” Jesse’s voice is a relief.

 _Akande’s_ voice is a surprise.

Hanzo looks up in time to see Jesse sliding in from the left and Akande from the right, two fingers pointed angrily in Widowmakers direction. A ceasefire if he’s guessing correctly.

Jesse spots Akande and pulls peacekeeper from her holster, blocking Hanzo’s hunched form from Akande’s view.

“Move.” Akande demandes, towering over Jesse’s taunt form.

“I’ll shoot ya between the eyes before I let you get anywhere near him.” Jesse threatens.

“Admirable.” Akande mutters, “But useless.” He reaches out to push Jesse out of the way, but Hanzo stops him, manages to draw his bow.

“Do not put your hands on him.”

“You will injure your shoulder further.” Akande is not fazed by the arrow aimed at his chest, he merely looks concerned.

“He’s right.” Jesse hisses, “Put it down.”

“Do not-.” Hanzo winces, shoulder flaring with pain, “Touch him.”

Akande raises his hands, “On my honor.”

“What honor?” Jesse sneers.

The two men have a short stand off, eyes narrowed and bodies tense. Hanzo can smell the testosterone from where he’s kneeling on the rooftop and wants nothing more than to dose the two of them in cold water.

“You are both dishonorable right now.” Hanzo snaps, “I am not a damsel in distress. Get Mercy on the comms.”

Jesse’s shoulders slacken, “Yea. Gotcha.” He twists away to speak into their comm link, eyes locked with Hanzo. His teeth grind together when Akande knees before Hanzo, shedding his partial shirt and wrapping it around his shoulder.

Hanzo’s hands are streaked with his own blood, but with the makeshift bandage, his shoulder eases.

“She is under strict orders not to kill you.” Akande murmurs between them.

Hanzo frowns, “From whom?”

“Me.” Akande tips Hanzo’s chin up with his finger, “You may not wish to join me, dragon, but I will not harm you and no one will touch a hair on your head as long as I am in charge.”

“Real noble of you, truly.” Jesse’s boots jingle as he steps up beside Hanzo.

Akande and Jesse’s gazes lock again, but this time, there is something else there. Hanzo frowns, watches them eye one another once more. Jesse reaches down and winds Hanzo’s good arm around the back of his neck, lifts them both to their feet.

“Doomfist.” Jesse nods at him.

“McCree.” Akande gives a regal tilt of his head, turns back to Hanzo, “Hanzo.”

Jesse helps him walk to the rendezvous point, where Mercy is waiting, pacing back and forth past the transport doors. She spots them and frantically meets Hanzo at the door, staff at the ready and unwinding the bandage made from Akande’s shirt.

Before long, they’re up in the air and the pilot is calling out their projected arrival time.

Jesse shoves Hanzo inside the plane's bathroom and devours his mouth. His hands run frantic over Hanzo’s body, through his hair, down over his ass, lifting him by his thighs and setting him on the sink’s edge.

Hanzo drinks him in like a parched man, cards his fingers through the back of Jesse’s head and gives as good as he gets. He winds his legs around Jesse’s hips and they rut like teenagers, high on adrenaline and Jesse on the tail end of too possessive.

Hanzo’s emotions are in tattered fragments by the time they’re panting into each others mouths, orgasms violent and encompassing.

Jesse breathes his name like a mantra against his neck, beard scraping flesh and hands tights to Hanzo’s hips.

“Do you still want him?”

The words jerk Hanzo from his afterglow and his stomach churns in fear. It is not a question he ever wants to answer. Not in the space between them, not in this new thing, so small and so not what Hanzo should be rewarded after the life he’s led.

“It’s okay if you do.” Jesse mumbles, kisses his healing shoulder, “But he ain’t allowed to touch you unless I’m there.”

Hanzo jerks back, startled, “Excuse me?”

Jesse looks determined, intense. It is the very expression he dons right before his deadeye takes out multiple enemies at once.

Hanzo’s libido tries to reawaken at the sight of it.

“He doesn’t get ta touch you-.” Jesse grounds out, fingers digging into Hanzo’s sides, “Unless I’m there.”

Hanzo’s features soften, fingers playing with the sweaty ends of Jesse’s oaken locks, “Jesse, that will never happen. It is not to be.” He kisses the cowboy, enjoys the rough treatment that edges it.

The plane bumps and putters on around them. Jesse cleans them both up and leads Hanzo back out into the main room, lets Mercy fuss over his shoulder one more time. He keeps his arm behind Hanzo’s head the entire ride back, cigar smoking between his lips and a look Hanzo doesn’t quite recognize on his face.

Hanzo has a feeling this is not over just yet.

  
  
  


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“How is your shoulder?” Genji brings Hanzo from his meditative state, but it is not unwelcome. He has been expecting his brother all afternoon, since he heard that the cyborg had returned from his trip to the states.

Hanzo hums, wiggles it in Genji’s direction, “Does not even feel as though I was shot.”

Genji chuckles and settles down, legs crossed in lotus form, at Hanzo’s right side, “Angela has the magic touch.”

“Yes.” Hanzo peers over at him, “She must have, look at how far you have come since she found you.”

“Indeed.” Genji’s smile is fond, “But a portion of that magic should go to Zenyatta or I would not have returned for my new body.” He waves at the glistening chrome and green he wears now, “I was still in my prototype when I fled Blackwatch and hide in the mountains of Nepal. Zen convinced me to return and Angela accepted me back with no hard feelings.”

Hanzo closes his eyes and enjoys the sound of brother’s voice.

“But only a few years later things began to crumble. I was there when we arrested Akande, you know. He had come out of hiding.”

“I do know.” Hanzo clears his throat, “When I heard of his arrest, I visited.” He hears Genji make a confused sound, “I never went in. I just sat above it, listened. Hoping to hear him.”

“How you must have suffered.” Genji whispers sadly.

Hanzo cracks his eyes open, “I suffered every day. Punished myself for what I did to you. Blinded by our families wishes, broken from Akande’s disappearance-.” He inhales, “You forgive me.” His eyes move to meet Genji’s across the space between them, “But there is a chance I will never forgive myself.”

Genji sets a hand on the back of his neck, “Brother, I hope one day you do. You deserve just as much happiness as I do. Not less.”

For once, Hanzo believes him.

  
  


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Hanzo does not believes in the expression that ‘everything comes to a head’. There is no universal countdown that strikes a mark every time a huge event happens. Then tallies up the marks until it creates enough leverage to peak and explode.

He does not believe in it, but Jesse does.

With the life they lead, there is not many opportunities for downtime or vacations or what have you. Overwatch is in constant motion and Hanzo and Jesse have been on missions together, separate, not at all.

It builds and builds and builds until everything does indeed come to a head.

  
  


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“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a hotel so fancy in my life.” Jesse whistles, setting his suitcase against the king sized bed in the middle of the room.

Hanzo can not agree, because he lived in luxury most of his life and never had to stay in dingy motel rooms when traveling. He is pretty sure Jesse spent eighty percent of his time in motel rooms and back alley camps when he was on the run. So he is glad Winston sprung for the good stuff when Hanzo formally asked for a weekend off.

Hana had teased them about their ‘honeymoon’ the entire way out the watchpoints front doors.

Jesse flops down face first into the mattress and groans, “Even better than the dorm beds. Hallelujah.”

“I’d imagine so.” Hanzo chuckles, sets his own luggage down and spreads the curtains to the windows.

The sun hasn’t quite set, they still have a few hours of daylight left to roam the town. Hanzo can see the cherry blossoms of his hometown swaying with the breeze, sending petals every which way like snow. His entire being sighs at the familiar landmarks, the streets, the people.

“Lookin’ real nostalgic over there, honeybee.”

“Do I?” Hanzo inquires, “It has been many years.”

“Glad we could take a vacation here, but are you sure we won’t get into any trouble?” Jesse pushes up to his elbows as Hanzo turns to face him.

“I can not guarantee it, but if we lay low, nothing should come about.” Hanzo leans over the bed to kiss him, “Let me show you the town?”

Jesse grins, “Hell yea, darlin’, let’s go!”

Hanzo takes him to every hotspot, old and new. He drags Jesse through shops and parks, one filled with birds of all shapes and colors. Jesse samples the street cuisines, drinks one too many chu-his, but his laughter is pleasant and music to Hanzo’s ears.

He’s spent his entire life wanting to show someone his city. Genji had been the first to kidnap Hanzo and show him life outside the estates walls.

He only wished he had shared it with his husband before everything went so wrong.

It is long past sunset and the sky is borderline pink and black by the time they’re stumbling back into the hotel room. Jesse is laughing, both arms low on Hanzo’s waist as he swings him around to the bed.

His grin is lavious and Hanzo warms under it, arches his chest against Jesse’s.

“Gonna wreck you, doll.” Jesse murmurs, nipping at Hanzo’s bottom lip before dipping in for a kiss.

It’s open mouthed and sloppy, Hanzo can taste the sweet pineapple drinks they shared, the ramen from down the street. Jesse’s body is warm and pleasant, sending tingles down Hanzo’s spine and gearing him up for sex far, _far_ away from the stress of their daily lives.

“Do not mind me.”

Jesse yelps and Hanzo frowns, glancing past the cowboy and towards the single chair near the window. It’s almost too dark to see, but Hanzo’s eyes adjust quickly.

Akande grins at the both of them, dressed to the nines in a deep maroon suit, shoes shined to the T. There’s a glass of iced brown liquid in his left hand.

Hanzo should be ashamed of the lust that piles on top of what he already has roaring inside his belly, but he isn’t. Jesse’s hands slip up the back of his shirt, warm and calloused across his skin and he shivers.

“Don’t recall invitin’ you.” Jesse’s tone is far too amused for Hanzo’s liking.

“I don’t recall divorcing my husband and handing him to _you_.” Akande strikes back.

Jesse only laughs and it is a deep sound that vibrates Hanzo’s chest. He twists Hanzo to the bed, lays him out carefully, hands curving down over the swell of his pecs. Jesse tugs at the bottom of his shirt and Hanzo helps him take it off, tossing it over his shoulder.

Hanzo lays back out, hair loose against the sheets, watching Jesse remove his own shirt and toe off his shoes.  He removes Hanzo’s next, slips his pants down and off, slow and easy.

Hanzo’s body is on fire. He can _feel_ Akande’s gaze on him from across the room, turns his head so he can see.

“Hello, dragon.” Akande greets him, takes a long sip from his drink and his eyes _burn_ as they roam over the naked expanse of Hanzo’s chest. His stomach tightens and his dick twitches, still encased in his undergarments.

Jesse’s hands cup his pecs, squeezing harshly and drawing his attention forward once more. His cowboy grins down at him, twists a nipple between his fingers.

Hanzo hisses, back arching at the feeling. His fingers scramble for purchase in the sheets below, but he can barely grip them. Jesse continues his torture, sets his mouth down to the free one and bites, tugs up and out.

“That’s it, doll.” Jesse licks at the bite mark, “Sing fer me.”

Hanzo’s breathing stutters, huffs out with every wet twist against his chest. His head falls back to the side, where Akande still sits, attention rapt where Jesse plays him like a fiddle.

Those eyes flick up to his own, a soft smile greets him, “I am here to enjoy the show.”

Hanzo frowns, confused.

“No you ain’t.” Jesse grouses, peppering kisses down Hanzo’s abdomen, “I’m gonna fuck him first.” He mouths at Hanzo’s clothed cock, “Gonna get him nice and open for ya.” Hanzo fights the whimper at the thought of Jesse inside him, _finally._ “Then I’m gonna kiss him real slow, wrap my hand around his pretty cock,” Amber eyes lock with Hanzo’s, “And then you get your turn.”

Akande growls and it cracks through the air, the sound settling at the base of Hanzo’s dick.  He forgets trying to get his hands in the sheets and instead grasps at Jesse’s shoulders, yanking him down into a filthy kiss.

His body is awash with arousal, hot and heavy. Jesse licks into his mouth and it is downright sloppy, but Hanzo does not care. He pulls Jesse’s body flush with his own and goes about putting on a show for his _husband_ , who he can hear growling softly from the side.

He suddenly wants Akande desperate. He wants Akande to look at him and regret all the years he left Hanzo lonely, bereft and without touch.

Akande will _beg_ before he’s allowed to be inside Hanzo again.

He wraps a hand around Jesse’s impressive cock when the cowboy finally sheds his boxers. It kicks in his hand, fluid leaking from the tip. Jesse hisses into his mouth, the kiss turns harsher and his hips hump against Hanzo’s hand. He squeezes, heart stuttering at the prospect of finally getting to feel it inside of him.

Jesse does not disappoint.

He prepares Hanzo slow and thorough. His fingers are thick and long, reaching deep and stretching wide. Hanzo shivers with it, breathes Jesse’s name like a prayer and says it with his eyes locked with Akande’s.

The glass in his husband's hand is long past empty, hanging by his forefinger and thumb. His face is shadowed with desire, bottom lip caught with white teeth as he watches Jesse work three fingers inside.  

Hanzo returns his gaze to Jesse.

“Ready, darlin’?” Jesse breathes the question into Hanzo’s thigh before slipping a condom over his dick.

Hanzo nods, swallows, “I have waited long enough.”

Jesse groans, leans over slow and wraps a hand around the base of his cock, setting it at Hanzo’s hole. Hanzo flexes and it wrings a sharp hiss from the cowboy. Jesse kisses him, pushes in slow, careful. The stretch lights a fire down Hanzo’s spine and sends his brain into a feedback of pain and pleasure. His cock throbs and precum oozes from the tip and drips down into the hollow of his stomach.

“Oh d _arlin’_ .” Jesse gasps into his mouth, eyes clenched shut and hips tight to Hanzo’s ass, burried deep as he can go, “Fuck, _Hanzo_.”

“Magnificent.” Akande breathes from his chair.

Akande speaking causes Jesse’s cock to twitch inside him, even with his ass clenched tight around it. Hanzo grins, gliding his hands up Jesse’s back and settling at his shoulder. He leans up and bites down on Jesse’s ear, licks it after, “Do you like the sound of his voice, Jesse?”

Jesse groans, hips retreating and slamming back inside. Hanzo gasps, nails anchoring down into the shoulders above him. Lightning shoots through his body and curls around the tip of his cock, threatening an orgasm that isn’t ready.

“Fuck him good, McCree.” Akande rumbles, “He likes it rough.”

Hanzo shouts when Jesse does as he’s told. His hips slam in and out of Hanzo, slick with lube. The pace is steady, hard, and Hanzo enjoys every second of it. Has been dreaming about this since the first time he allowed Jesse into his bubble. Every booze filled night always ended with Hanzo in bed, fisting himself with Jesse’s name on his lips, wondering what that cock would feel like. How it would fuck him.

Now he knows.

It’s thick, wider at the base and fills Hanzo to the brim every time. It strikes at his prostate, edging him higher and higher with every slap against his ass.

Jesse bites into a nipple, eyes wild and focused on Hanzo and Hanzo alone. He’s chasing his end, knows that he’s not the only one allowed in Hanzo’s body tonight. Hanzo wraps a hand around the back of his neck, squeezes, tightens his ass around Jesse’s cock.

“Do you want to watch him take me?” Jesse bares his teeth and the pace quickens, the thrusts are harder and Hanzo is on the edge of coming embarrassingly early, but he must hold on. He’s not as young as he used to be. None of them arm.

Hanzo growls, “Do. You. Want. To. Watch. Him. Take. Me?”

“ _Yes_.” Jesse snarls and it is so unlike him to lose control. Hanzo kisses him and makes it tender, twines his tongue with Jesse’s own and keeps it soft through the brutal pounding. Jesse is near sobbing against his mouth and Hanzo can hear his metal hand tearing through the sheets beside Hanzo’s head.

“Come for me, Jesse.” Hanzo says against his mouth.

Jesse does.

His shout is loud, agonizing and his hips lock tight with Hanzo’s ass as he spills inside. Hanzo clenches around him, pulling the aftershocks from Jesse in soft waves.

“Fuck.” Jesse drops his forehead to Hanzo’s chest, “Goddamn it’s a right shame I couldn’t get you off.”

Hanzo chuckles, body still burning, but in a pleasant, dreamy way, “Next time.”

Jesse kisses his tattooed pec, “I’ll hold ya to that darlin’.”

He feels Jesse pull out slowly, discards the condom and rolls over with a heavy whoosh of air. The mattress bounces with his weight and Hanzo eyes him, from the flushed cheekbones, down his heaving, hairy chest, to the limp, wet cock between his legs.

Oh Hanzo is so, so lost on him.

Jesse sends him a grin and his eyes dart up.

Hanzo feels Akande before he sees him. A dark hand cups his still hard cock and squeezes the base, twists up to the top. Hanzo gasps sharply and his head kicks back at the feeling, toes curling into the sheets below.

Akande breathes out a hiss and his weight joins them on the bed. Hanzo lays out in anticipation, so ready to feel that big body over him once again. After so many years of living with only a memory, his heart soars at the real thing.

His husband settles between his legs and he has long since shed his clothing. Something Hanzo is thankful for, because he’s growing impatient and wants nothing more than his husbands cock inside him.

But first, he reaches for Jesse’s hand, fingers curling together and looking once more for reassurance.

Jesse kisses him, just like he promised, slow and deep. Hanzo can feel him slap Akande’s hand away from Hanzo’s cock and takes it in his own.

Hanzo groans into the kiss.

“My turn.” Akande says and Jesse pulls away.

Akande’s kisses are powerful, like the man himself. They sink deep like an anchor and make sure you’ll never be lost at sea. Hanzo is lost anyway, caught between two men who have wanted nothing but his happiness since the beginning.

When the kiss parts and Akande settles between Hanzo’s legs, only then does Hanzo reach down and wrap his fist around that massive cock. Akande grunts, features surprised when Hanzo tightens his fist once, twice.

“I remember-.” He tilts his head, eyes locked with the dark ones above him, “How much you enjoyed this.” His hand swivels violently at the head and Akande chokes on a sound, body shuddering.

“ _Dragon_.” Akande swallows, hands curling into Hanzo’s thighs.

“Ten years you’ve made me wait.” Hanzo growls, “ _Beg_ for it.”

Jesse’s chuckle is dark and wet against Hanzo’s arm and Hanzo knows he’s watching. Molten eyes locked tight where Hanzo’s holds Akande’s pleasure in his hand.

Akande looks like he’s about to protest, but Hanzo knows _everything_ about him. Even after all the time left empty between them.

He twists again, thumbs the slit and Akande is lost. He hunches down, pressing himself against Hanzo’s body, “Please, dragon.” An open kiss pressed to his cheek, “ _Hanzo_. Husband. Lov-.”

Hanzo guides Akande to his hole and he slips inside with no resistance.

It feels like coming home.

Akande groans against Hanzo’s cheek and Hanzo’s fingers tighten within Jesse’s own. His cock oozes once more, but Jesse swipes it away, drags it down the length of him and causes a pleasant, wet suction.

None of them speak while Akande pounds away. Everything is too much and Hanzo can do little but cry out, pleasure skating across his senses like wildfire. Jesse and Akande take turns devouring his mouth, but Jesse’s hand never leaves his cock.

He’s so close. His entire being is awash with sensation and he doubts he’ll ever get a chance to feel this way again. To have both the men he cares for sharing him, fucking him senseless and leaving him weak.

Jesse makes sure Hanzo comes first. He tugs and twists, leaving mouth-shaped bruises along Hanzo’s shoulders.

Akande strikes his prostate for the third time and he’s over the edge, cock spraying over his chest. He nearly screams from it, but instead he chants a mixture of both their names. Can only feel pleasure pulsing through his body as Akande continues to fuck him.

It doesn’t take long for Akande to follow, both having gone without one another for so long. Akande breathes out his name, pulling out fast, ripping the condom away and coming hot between Hanzo’s legs.

They all come down slow, riding the waves of each other’s pleasure.

Jesse is the first to speak, a laugh in his voice as he says, “Not bad for my first threesome.”

Hanzo groans and slaps his chest. It only makes the cowboy laugh and roll away. He can make out the bathroom light clicking on, but he’s too weak to move. His thighs burn and his ass twinges in the best way.

“Thank you for this.” Akande speaks low, so only the two of them can hear.

Hanzo looks over at him as he cleans up the mess with his own boxers, “You should be thanking Jesse.”

“I will.” Akande assures, “But you allowed me back inside you, after all I have done.” He kisses Hanzo’s sternum, “My love for you will never wane, dragon.”

“Nor mine for you.” Hanzo returns.

He watches Akande’s eyes follow Jesse as he gathers rags and towels to clean them all up.

“You have chosen well.” Akande murmurs.

Hanzo does not want to use words like love. Can not say them out loud in fear of everything being swept out from under him.

Like it always has.

“Sleep.” Akande kisses him, tugs the outer blankets away and settles Hanzo under the newer ones.

Jesse joins them, rag cool and pleasant against Hanzo’s heated skin. His grin is cocky and self assured and Hanzo wants to smack him, but can’t find the strength.

“Told you I was gonna wreck ya, darlin’.”

It’s the last thing he hears before sinking into a deep, deep sleep.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Hanzo rises with the sun, but the other two occupants in the hotel bed do not.

He’s laid out between them, Jesse on his back, arm slung over his eyes and snoring. Akande is on his right, flat on his stomach and one of his arms curled around Hanzo’s stomach.

The warmth is near suffocating, but as Hanzo breathes through it, the only emotion coming out on the other end is-

His throat tightens. He remembers both of their words, promises against his skin and their affection burned into his memory.

As he lays between them, he can feel the faucet of his heart, so tight, so secure, wiggle just slightly. It wiggles and it jumps and his heart hammers with every snore Jesse lets loose and the tightening of Akande’s thick arm.

Jesse shifts beside him, rolls over and tosses an arm over and it lands parallel to Akande’s. Hanzo watches him, emotion clogging his chest and fear curling in the pit of his stomach.

Jesse opens his eyes and grins over at him and it is the most beautiful thing Hanzo has ever seen.

And just like that, the faucet bursts.

  


_End_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> End Credits:
> 
> Sombra clicks her nails across the desk, face scrunched up in the palm of her other hand. 
> 
> "Stop pouting." Reaper grumbles, "I can feel your negativity from here." 
> 
> She spins around in her chair, throws out her arms, "Why am I always the one who has to set up everyone's sex appointments?" 
> 
> Amelie glances up from the book she's reading, nose scrunched up, "Excuse moi?" 
> 
> Sombra snaps her hand like a talking sock puppet, "Sombra find Morrison, I'm feeling horny. Sombra, find Shimada _and_ McCree." She yanks at her hair, nerves frazzled, "I'm not an escort service!" 
> 
> Reaper says nothing. Amelie returns to her book, flips a page, "I don't suppose you could-." 
> 
> Sombra screams.
> 
> End  
> (For real this time)
> 
>  
> 
> This one was fun to write and I love Doomzo so much you don't understand. It's infected me. Cut it ooooouuuut.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for their continued support, comments, and kudos. You're all the bomb diggity.


End file.
